Comfort
by rowdyteacup
Summary: "Listen, it's been a long day, please just give me the mac 'n cheese and no one will get hurt." Fluffy AU.


**A/N:** Huge thank you and shout-out to half agony and hope for convincing me to finish and post this story, and also for giving me a brilliant idea to include in it. You're the best! :)

This story is an AU and was written based on a prompt that I read on tumblr that went like this: _"This has been a shitty week and you just grabbed the last box of my favourite comfort food from the shelf, do you really want to fight me rn?"_ In this story there is no Red John, and no mention of Angela or Charlotte, but what happened to them or whether they even existed here is entirely up to your imaginations.

I'm sorry for how long it's been since I last posted a story, and I hope that this little bit of fluffy silliness will make up for it. I also hope that it will bring a smile to your face in the midst of all the things going on in the world at the moment.

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist or its characters and I make no profit from this work of fanfiction.**

Her exhaustion blurs her vision slightly as she walks slowly down the aisle of the grocery store. She's only here to buy one thing – a mac 'n cheese microwave meal, her favourite comfort food – and then she can go home to rest.

Just as she nears the shelf containing the aforementioned favourite comfort food, a hand appears in front of her and grabs the last box. She blinks and is suddenly wide awake again.

"Not after the shitty day I've had," she mutters to herself, and then louder, "Hey! Excuse me, sir, that's mine."

The man turns around, glances at the box in his hands and then raises his eyebrows. "Really? I thought this was a public grocery store, you know, anyone can take what they like as long as they have money." He smirks. "And sometimes even when they don't."

Teresa sighs. "Listen, it's been a long day, please just give me the mac 'n cheese and no one will get hurt."

She knows that she sounds a bit ridiculous and desperate but she can't bring herself to care all that much. She is not going to let some stranger rob her of her relaxing evening.

He looks at her searchingly for a second. Then he replies, "I've also had a rather tough day. Do you think you could let this slide just for today? This is my favourite comfort food and I've been thinking about eating it for hours."

Teresa almost laughs at the plaintive expression on his face when he says those words and she takes a moment to study him. He's dressed in a somewhat wrinkled three-piece suit, his hair slightly mussed as if he's just woken up and she suddenly feels mortified. Who is she to insist that he give her the mac 'n cheese? She can find something in her fridge.

"Yeah, you can have it, I'm so sorry," she answers, her cheeks reddening at the thought of what has just transpired. She's threatened a perfect stranger over a box of macaroni. She _really_ needs to get some sleep.

"It's ok," he answers. "I understand. You don't have any new leads on a case that has had you working half to death for the past week. I'd also be prepared to fight someone for a mac 'n cheese in that situation."

She freezes, her eyes going wide. "How... how did you know that?"

He shrugs. "Observation. Your badge is sticking out from under your blazer there," he nods towards her hip. "What would make a policewoman tired? A difficult case, most probably. Secondly, and I don't mean this in a bad way, but you have dark circles under your eyes. Clearly the case has been open for a while."

She frowns, her hand subconsciously going to her cheek in a vain attempt to hide the discolouration.

He notices. "I promise they don't look bad; in fact..." he pauses. "You are a very beautiful woman." He eventually says, giving her a small smile.

Teresa blushes again, suddenly all too aware of how attractive he is. And he just called her beautiful. She's not sure whether she should run, grab her gun, or grab _him_ and kiss him senseless. The latter thought takes her by surprise and she turns quickly, needing to get away from his piercing blue eyes that seem able to read minds.

"I need to go," she says. "I'm sorry to trouble you."

She is about ten steps away when she hears him call after her. She stops and he catches up.

"I've just thought of something. Would you like to come over for dinner? That way we could share this amazing macaroni."

She frowns at him. "I don't even know your name. What makes you think I'd be willing to do that?"

"Patrick Jane," he replies immediately, "and because you need to relax and you really want this macaroni and cheese. I can help you with both of those things. I don't have any ulterior motives, I promise. I wouldn't lie to an officer of the law."

"Uh huh," she answers doubtfully.

Patrick holds up the box of macaroni and waves it around enticingly. Teresa feels hunger pangs starting and sighs. She has just been offered a free meal by a man she's extremely attracted to. It's certainly not every day that that happens. She'd better capitalise on it while she has the chance.

"All right," she says. "I'll have dinner with you."

 **xxx**

Around an hour after meeting Patrick in the grocery store, Teresa is standing by his front door, waiting for him to answer her knock and questioning all of her decisions that led up to her being here.

But then he answers, and she won't admit it if asked, but his charm and his smile really does something for her, and she is reminded why she accepted his invitation.

"Hi," he says, gesturing for her to come in.

She follows him into the house – well, more accurately, a mansion – she can't believe that this gorgeous house belongs to him.

"You have a very beautiful home," she says and looks over at Patrick.

"Thank you," he replies with a wink. "Wouldn't you like to know how I got it?"

She grins. "Sounds like an interesting story. I'd love to hear it."

They walk through a doorway into the dining room and Patrick pulls out a chair for her.

"I'll tell you over dinner. Have a seat, I'm just going to fetch the food."

He goes over to the huge kitchen adjoining the dining room and Teresa looks around, still somewhat in awe. She's never been one to aspire to be rich; what she's always wanted most is a simple house with a small garden so that she could perhaps have a dog, but she is certainly able to appreciate the beauty of something as tastefully decorated as this.

Patrick returns, placing a big bowl of salad on the table, as well as the steaming plate of mac 'n cheese. This is joined by a side dish of roast vegetables, and Teresa's mouth starts watering. Patrick seems to be full of surprises; first the luxurious house and now some apparently top-notch cooking skills. She doesn't care for his money; she'd like him just as much even if he didn't have it, but everything else about him is making her heart race.

While they eat dinner, Patrick tells her about growing up in a carnival and the unconventional tricks of the trade that he learned there. Teresa finds out that the funds for his house came from pretending to be a psychic, and clearly doing very well for himself.

"That definitely explains a couple of things," she muses, her eyes shining in the light of the candles that Patrick lit before they started eating.

"Well, you know, I have to do a bit of cold reading now and then so that my skills don't get rusty," he replies, smiling back at her.

"Oh, so you're not doing the psychic thing anymore?"

"No, swindling people out of their money got old relatively quickly. Once the psychic gig had netted enough money to live on comfortably, I just didn't see the point in continuing," Patrick answers. "When I left the carnival I swore I would never turn into my father; I would never do the things he did... And what did I end up doing? Conning people for their money exactly like him."

Teresa's face is sympathetic as she listens to him and hears the bitterness in his voice. She reaches out and touches his hand briefly.

"You still have time to change," she says softly. "You can still be a better person than he was."

Patrick smiles sadly. "I hope you're right. But enough about me and my sob stories; tell me about you. How was your childhood?"

"Hmm, if you want to get away from sob stories, my childhood is not exactly the place you want to go," she says.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Patrick replies, looking concerned.

"It's ok; I actually find it quite therapeutic to talk about my past. It helps it to seem smaller and less scary, if that makes sense."

"Yes, it does."

 **xxx**

After dinner, Patrick makes tea and they sit in his living room talking for hours. Teresa finds him fascinating, both in the conversation he makes and in how easy it is for her to talk to him. She's somewhat surprised that they both jumped straight into sharing emotional things on the first date, but she feels like she can trust him and that puts her more at ease than she's been all week. She thinks that he trusts her too, and that is why their words are flowing so easily.

She only notices what the time is near midnight, and quickly apologises for staying so long.

"It's not a problem," Patrick assures her, looking amazed that she would even think that. He gets up and they leave the house and walk together to her car parked in the driveway.

The breeze blows a strand of hair across Teresa's face and Patrick reaches up to carefully brush it away. "I've had such a great time with you tonight," he says softly. "I haven't enjoyed myself so much for a long time. Thank you for being willing to have dinner with me."

Teresa smiles shyly. "My pleasure, I hope that we'll be able to do this again some time."

Patrick grins at her in delight. "I would love to."

"Maybe we could go to an Italian restaurant and get an even better mac 'n cheese. I know a great place in..." she trails off when she notices the grimace that flashes over Patrick's face.

"What's wrong?" Teresa asks, concerned.

"Oh dear. I seem to be losing my touch when it comes to masking my facial expressions," he quips.

Teresa just looks even more worried. "Do you not want to see me again?"

"Oh my, no, of course I want to," Patrick replies hurriedly. "It's just... the macaroni and cheese..."

The consternation now on his face is almost comical.

"What about it?" Teresa asks, still a bit lost.

"I don't actually... _like_ macaroni and cheese."

There is a pause while this statement sinks in.

Then, "What?" Teresa almost shrieks. "But just a few hours ago you said it was the best meal you'd ever eaten. Which admittedly, was a bit of a surprise, I mean that mac 'n cheese is good but it's just a boxed meal. It has its limitations."

"Yes, that might have been a small... deviation from the truth."

"A deviation? It was an outright lie! Why would you do that?"

Teresa is starting to wonder why she trusted this man in the first place. She knows a troublemaker when she sees one; she just happened to be rather attracted to this one back at the grocery store. But it is just macaroni and cheese that he has lied about, as far as she knows, so she decides to give him a chance to explain. She makes a mental note to ask Grace to do a background check, however. Just to be safe.

"I might have... orchestrated the whole reaching for the box of mac 'n cheese at the same time thing," Patrick admits. "I was near the entrance when I saw you walk into the store and I just... you took my breath away. You were – are – so stunningly beautiful. I had to find a way to talk to you, so I did a cold read and saw that you were a tired and most probably hungry cop. I figured you wouldn't be there buying ingredients to cook a gourmet meal, especially at that time of the evening, so I hung around the comfort food shelf, and sure enough, there you went. From there it was simple to ensure I was near enough to grab the same box that you were going to. It was just my luck that it was the last one."

Then he pauses and shrugs sheepishly. "Well, almost the last one. There might have been another box that I quickly pushed behind the lasagne."

Teresa covers her mouth with her hand after he's finished explaining, but she isn't quick enough to hold back a snort. "Are you serious?" she asks, her words slightly strangled by her efforts to curb her laughter. "You could have just said hi, you know?"

Patrick nods, clearly quite confused by her abrupt change in mood. "I know, but this seemed like the best plan. Anyway, it worked, didn't it? Not only have we said a lot more than just hi to each other, we spent a wonderful evening together. I'd call that a success."

At this, Teresa leans against her car for support as her shoulders shake silently. She can't believe that he would concoct such an elaborate plan to get her attention, but the fact that he _has_ strikes her as the most hilarious and strangely thoughtful thing she's ever experienced.

"I'm sorry for lying to you," Patrick says after a moment. "I just couldn't walk away and never see you again without giving it my best shot."

She shakes her head and gives him a genuine smile. "You are absolutely adorable."

Patrick brightens and asks hopefully, "So we're ok? We'll still go out some time, just _not_ to eat macaroni and cheese?"

"Yeah," Teresa says. "We're ok."

Patrick sighs in relief and pulls her to him in an unexpected but not unwelcome hug. "Thank goodness," he replies somewhere in her hair.

All of a sudden it's as though the air has been sucked out of her lungs. They've moved from joking around to intimate in a split second and, to be quite honest, she's been waiting for this the whole night. Now that it's finally here, though, she's not quite sure what to do.

She takes a moment to indulge in the feeling of his chest pressed solidly against hers, and a moment is all she needs before she reaches up and presses her lips to his in a chaste kiss.

Before he can react, she pulls back and whispers, "Thanks for dinner," near his mouth.

"My pleasure," he replies, his words carried on a somewhat shaky exhale. He lowers his face down to hers and places a lingering kiss on her cheek that tingles her skin and leaves her reaching towards him for more.

He reciprocates happily, and they are only brought back down to earth when a car suddenly drives by, blasting music at full volume. They pull away from each other slightly, both a little disoriented from the unexpected intrusion. Patrick rests his forehead against hers, and they spend a few seconds catching their breath.

Finally, she takes a step back. "I should go. Thank you for this evening."

Patrick gives her one last hug and then lets her go, allowing her to turn around and unlock the car. He reaches around her to open the door, leaning in so close his breath brushes her cheek. She shivers as she takes her seat and looks up in time to catch the charming grin he flashes her way.

"Goodnight, Teresa," he says.

"Goodnight, Patrick."

She drives away, her skin still buzzing from the feel of his lips against it, and her face breaks into a wide smile. She would never have expected her evening to turn out this way, but she is so happy that it did. She rolls her shoulders and the tension that was in them when she walked into the grocery store is now delightfully absent.

"Relaxing, indeed," she says quietly, already planning a time to call Patrick tomorrow.

Apparently he can read minds even when not physically with her because right at that moment her phone beeps and the screen lights up. When she gets home she checks the message and sure enough, it's from him.

 _Hi Teresa, I just wanted to say that I would eat mac 'n cheese any time for you. Sleep well. Patrick._


End file.
